


Rendezvous

by Soul4Sale



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Qunlat, Qunmance, Slight Canon Divergence, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion to Disease. Saemus is lost without his purpose; Sister Petrice’s betrayal reunites him with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Started this a week or so ago? Finally got around to getting it finished, and I love it. After a certain point, it is unbeta’d.

Twenty four hours ago, the worst thing in the world would have been being locked up in his room, unable to seek the warmth and comfort he felt in Ashaad’s arms as he slept. Near-silent breaths in slow succession, raising and lowering the strong chest his back so often pressed against were like a lullaby to him. Even if they spent the majority of the night just talking, cuddled up in rich furs in front of the fire pit, as soon as they laid down together for sleep, he was out like a light. From the first night to last night, it had been the only way he could sleep. Of course, Saemus Dumar’s father forbade him more often than he liked, leaving him with far more than his fair share of sleepless nights and spacy days.

Now, however, he realized just how much worse things could get in the span of a heartbeat. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of his Qunari’s lifeless body, his blank eyes, met him and he was nearly ill. The Viscount had spent a good portion of his afternoon arguing with his son, trying to put it into his head that he was running from the wrong people. All of his words melded into one solid, hard truth that left a bitter taste on his heir’s tongue.

_Ignorance and fear of the unknown drives these Bas. They scramble for a purpose that gives them a meaningless existence._

The words were, more or less, Ashaad’s, if not a little more fleshed out than what he would usually say. Upon further contemplation, he assumed they were not even his words; they were the words of his _people_. 

His first night sleeping alone in the large, silken bed his father’s position afforded him was far too easy. Grief, his uncontrolled sobbing, anger, and the dissipation of the adrenaline in his veins had him sleeping like the dead as soon as he hit the too-soft mattress. When he felt the sun, warm on his face as it shone through the open window, he could have sworn he heard that deep chuckle, could feel the large hand on his shoulder, _Wake up, Kadan. You sleep too much._

It seemed to be a waking dream, because when his eyes fluttered open, the soft smile on his face fell and everything came crashing back to him. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to just roll back over and sleep the rest of his life away. At least, if he slipped as consciously into the Fade as he could, perhaps they would be reunited. Viciously yanking the down pillow from underneath his head (how he ached for that strong arm beneath his head, instead), he covered his face and attempted to roll onto his stomach in the process, only to end up throwing the damned thing across the room.

“Saemus?” That voice should have been more expected, and had he not felt so drained, he probably would have jumped. Instead, he merely uttered a noncommittal grunt after a rather ruffled ‘Ahem’ sounded from his doorway. “Saemus, your father wishes to see you. He believes you should take your mind off of your…” The word tasted foul and rotten on Seneschal Bran’s tongue, “ _Friend_ by shadowing him today. You’ve slept a good portion of the day away, already. You need not mope for such a monster. I cannot fathom feeling so strongly for some brute.”

As usual, his father’s little bitch of an assistant held so little regard for him that he could feel the bile, and his anger, rising. 

“ _Teth a, basra, ashkost kata!_ ” It was the first bit of Qunlat he had spoken within city limits, and it’s implications were harsh. Coupled with the snarl on his face and the sudden rise to his feet, practiced as though he’d worked his whole life to achieve perfection in his motions, it was enough to send the redhead skittering off to his master like a frightened child.

From that day forward, Saemus Dumar wasn’t certain what he hated more; slaving through days of being misunderstood and wishing for a life that seemed ripped from him, or nights of insomnia that left him drained, strained, and beyond help. Even three years after Ashaad’s untimely demise, sleep was hard to come by. Things only grew more and more turbulent, with Chantry-sanctioned murders of innocent Qunari, and his father did nothing, too busy trying not to step on toes.

Enough was _enough_. The sleepless nights, the constant bickering, the delayed bad news that got worse and worse by the second… He was done. On another anniversary of his deceased lover’s death, he fled to the docks once the guard was gone and his father asleep. 

The week he spent with the Qunari was like coming home; he had never felt more accepted, or more like he was on the right path in life. Except, maybe, when he’d spent those sleepless, comfortable nights in Ashaad’s arms, of course, but this was a close second. He’d taken his time, learned what would become of him in the Qun, possibly, and had started on his conversion.

And then, the letter from his father came. 

After a short talk with the Arishok, he was en route to the Chantry to speak with his father, albeit begrudgingly. He supposed it would be his only chance to say goodbye, to make sure there were no loose ends. But his father hadn’t been there at all.

In fact, he was accosted by Mother Petrice, who assured him his father would be along any minute now. A goblet of water was offered, and after he took it, he realized that it wasn’t a kindhearted gesture from a woman of Andraste; but a trap set by a bas that didn’t understand. The poison was quick to work, sealing his throat as he stared at her, _why?_ shining in his eyes as he collapsed. 

“It’s nothing personal,” The woman told him as she slid behind him, fisting a hand in the shock of black hair ( _I will never understand how it defies gravity_ ), and pulling his neck back, “It’s a matter of principle.” With that, a wicked blade sliced over his neck and everything went dark.

And then his eyes opened and he shot up, looking around wildly to find his hair blown by a light sea-salt breeze. The day was bright and he could hear the Waking Sea lapping at stones all around him. Hands curling in the soft sand beneath him, confusion lit his eyes as he looked around.

“Welcome back, _Kadan._ ” That voice was familiar, and tears suddenly pricked his eyes as he darted to his knees, turning around. With wide, sky-blue eyes, he found himself on his feet and then in Ashaad’s arms before he knew it. Tears leaked down his face as he rubbed his cheek against hard muscle, just like he remembered, and those strong arms enclosed him, and he was _home_.

“Ashaad, I… Is this a dream?” He finally managed to ask softly.

“No.” While, before, that response would have earned a thousand and two questioned, now it only made Saemus smile. This must be what the Afterlife had in mind for them.

“I missed you…”

“And I, you.” He could have sworn he saw a smile on the giant’s usually stony face.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Welp, there we go, the companion piece is finished. ^^ I hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Teth a - A call for attention, or warning.  
> Basra - Literally, "thing." Foreign to the Qun. Implication of being purposeless.  
> Ashkost kata - You Are Seeking Death


End file.
